Coming Up For Air
by Starbuck0322
Summary: Kate Beckett wonders if she really knows herself as well as she thinks she does. Richard Castle follows through on a promise and goes "fishing".
1. Backlash

**Coming Up For Air**

by Starbuck0322

***

_Chapter 1: Backlash_

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Tongues meet in a fury of flesh and moisture. Hands writhe in the moonlight flooding in from Detective Kate Beckett's window. Thick liquid rushing, her body aching for the man in front of her. Oh, how she has waited for this; this teasing, this hunger, all at once heavy within her, a torrent of heat and sweat.

She wraps her legs around Richard Castle, his growing anticipation rising to meet her, entering her freely. A pleasure frenzy of expert hands and limbs moving in the darkness. Lightheaded, she grasps for something and finds his chest, thick and muscular. His arms wrapped around her, he leans back to let her work.

She bucks above him, a rage of pleasure assaulting her, prickling the senses. She leans back, and he moves with her, laying her on her back. Hands reach for her breasts, soft, kneading, pricking the soft tissue; she arches her back at the sensation. How long had she waited for him to do this, to whisper her name, and now as he was bringing her body closer with each spasm, how she marvelled as he moved long and steady within her to make her quake and tremble, screaming his name. "Oh Richard!"

Suddenly in the darkness the shadow above her moves releasing her, towering above her. Eyes coming into focus, her mouth hangs open in horror.

"What?" Agent Will Sorenson questions looking down at Kate Beckett, her hands suddenly drawn from his torso. He pushes her away.

"Oh my god," she says watching him get up from the bed, reaching for his clothes. "Will, I'm sorry."

He says nothing but continues to dress, fury rising in his face, she can see she has wounded him.

"No. Its fine Kate," he says shortly, his voice filling the room, "I should have known better." Hands and arms furiously pull at his shirt.

"Will," she continues but he has left her side grabbing his shoes, he heads for her door.

Unsteady hands reach for her robe and she runs to meet him, his hand turning the handle.

"Will," she repeats, grabbing his arm, pulling him around to face her, "Don't go. Stay with me. Talk to me."

Eyes wet with frustration, he leans down to her, his voice low, "What good would it do Kate?" He is inches from her face, he is searching, "It's obvious you're in love with him."

She begins again but his hands rise to his defence, cutting her off.

"It's as plain as the look on your face now." He sighs putting on his coat, taking a step back into the hallway, "I guess I don't know you as well as I think I do."

* * *

A/N: For those of you who don't know... _Backlash_ is a fishing term for when fishing line gets tangled on a reel...

I thought it was a fitting title due to all of the fishing terminology in "Little Girl Lost".

More to come...


	2. Baited

_Chapter 2: Baited_

* * *

Kate Beckett, skim latte in hand, makes her way through the corridors of New York City's 12th precinct, file folder tucked underarm, willing the caffeine to enter her system and awaken her senses. Her thoughts still cloudy from the previous night, she turns a corner to find author Richard Castle sitting in his usual seat. This, she thinks to herself, was going to be a long day.

A shake of her head, she is at his side, "Castle?"

"Good morning Detective," utters Castle, refusing to look up from his case file.

She waits a moment before continuing, her foot lightly tapping the floor; she asks again, "Castle, how many times do I have to tell you?"

He gets up in a fury moving to a chair opposite her, a young child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Right my apologies," he says while straightening papers on her desk. As he does this, his arm brushes against her side. Leaning across her desk, he is close enough for her to smell the familiar scent of his cologne, and like a deer caught in headlights she cannot refrain from looking in his direction; her breathing heavy and intense. The events of the night before return to her, vivid and concrete.

"Mmm," he whispers, eyes closing, "You smell good."

She shakes her head in annoyance, sitting, taking another sip of her coffee.

"You alright there Detective?" the writer asks leaning closer to her, "How was date number two? Is he a keeper? You two going to be picking out china patterns or what?" Castle leans back in the chair looking up at her, an eyebrow raised in her direction, a playful tone filling the space between them.

She cocks her head in his direction and continues, "Actually, it was date number 4. Not that we're counting or anything."

"I stand corrected".

She can sense that he is silently asking her to continue, "And no Castle, I don't think there will be any dish shopping in the near future."

"Oh?" his tone rising, "Do tell!" He claps his hands together a few times, the smile of a schoolgirl ear to ear.

Her eyes focused on his lips, she hesitates for a second, a smile spreading across her own. His lips on hers, moist and inviting, his tongue tracing the contours of her mouth. His hands travelling up her body, resting on her soft, caressing. The motion of his movements, the hair on the back of her neck rising, small goose bumps playfully linger...

"Beckett?"

Snapping from her reverie, she looks to Castle who wears a look of solemn victory.

"No way Castle, you're not pulling me in again. I already told you. You have enough juice for your Nikki Heat."

She looks down to notice his hand, resting on hers, tenderly his fingers tracing circles on the back of her hand. His hands moving to her knee, fingers running up her thigh, wandering the lines of her body, resting between her legs...

She looks down to her hand again, to Castle, his hands in his lap.

She sighs, annoyed, and stands quickly heading to the break room. Coffee. More coffee was all she needed. This was truly going to be a long day.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far... I have a feeling this one is going to be long...


	3. Just Breathe

_Chapter 3: Just Breathe_

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_

She enters the break room lingering at the espresso machine; a gift from him, her fingers tracing a line across the top of it. With shaking hand she takes a cup and places it under the dispenser. Filling the machine with fresh grinds, she smiles to her self as the fresh hot liquid fills her cup, surrounding her in comfort.

"Hey," comes the familiar voice of Richard Castle, startling her, causing her to jump, dripping hot coffee on her hand.

"Damn it," she exclaims, dropping the cup on the counter, spilling its contents further.

"Aw shit, sorry," Castle says wholeheartedly, standing beside her, a hand on her shoulder.

She reaches for the sink turning on the cold water tap and pushes her hand under the running water finding instant relief.

"Are you OK?" he asks with genuine concern, letting his arm drape across her shoulder, drawing her near to him.

Uneasy under his touch, she shakes her shoulders free, moving, putting inches between them. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Let me see," he says shaking his head to the side. He edges beside her again grabbing her hand from beneath the cold water. His hand warm compared to hers, he holds her fingers lightly, holding them close to his face. As if to cool them further, he blows gently upon them; her hand red in his white hands.

"They're fine, Castle," she says weakly, letting him take her hands to his mouth. She holds a breath as he brings his lips to her hand, kissing lightly once, and then again, his eyes looking up to her slowly.

She sighs, shaking slightly as he takes her by the wrist, looking over her injury again. "You can never be too sure with burns you know," he says assuredly.

He loosens his grip enough for her to pull away from him, leaning across to reach for her cup. He stops her in her travels, placing a hand on her elbow guiding her away.

"Go sit down," he instructs, "I'll bring you your coffee."

She lowers her shoulders turning to take a seat at the table in the room. Slumping in the chair, she puts her hand to her face remarking at the red colour.

"Sugar. Cream." he remarks, seeing her nod in return, her sights still on her hand.

It is not long before a fresh cup is placed in front of her, one in front of him as he sits beside her, turning his chair to sit in close proximity facing her. A fresh, cool damp cloth is offered to her and upon reaching for it he shakes his head, offering his hand for hers.

"Castle," she sighs heavily, "Give me the cloth."

He shakes his head again, watching as she brings her cup to her mouth, sipping carefully. "Nope. Your hand please."

She sees that this is a battle she is not going to win, and with a twinge in her stomach, remembering the warm sensation of her hand in his, she offers it again. He carefully places the cloth on her injured hand, laying her palm flat with his, fingers curling around her wrist.

"You don't seem yourself today," he divulges eventually.

A wry smile and then, "Way to go Sherlock."

"Was it something I said?" he asks carefully.

"No," she remarks finally looking up at him, her hand relaxed in his. "I'm just tired."

She cannot remember the last time she had let someone hold her hand for a long period of time; let alone to be nursed by a man. Castle's movements are gentle, careful, and she succumbs to him, eventually relaxing her shoulders, her lower back, her knees, her other hand loose in her lap.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

She straightens, opening her eyes, unaware she had let herself go so freely in front of him. Looking down, she sees his free hand flat against her knee, fingers toying with the outside of her thigh.

"No, I'll be fine. I just need coffee." She takes another sip from her mug.

"You came in with one did you not?"

"I did," she remarks, brow furrowing.

He sighs, smiling, "I just don't want you to get too fidgety that's all."

"I'm fine."

"So you've said," he pauses, slowly taking his hand from her leg to the cloth, "Do I have anything to worry about with this guy?"

She takes her hand from him abruptly, the cloth rubbing roughly on her injury. "What do you mean?"

He places the cloth on the table, taking his mug in his hand. "Am I going to have to break his legs if he tries to hurt you?"

Her shoulders relax again, "Oh, I think I can handle myself, thank you."

"No doubt you can," both of his hands, palms down on her knees now, "But I'm here if you need me."

She is taken by his words and inhales deeply. Unable to speak, she nods slightly, allowing him to move his hands on her legs gently.

"You sure you're OK?" he asks again, removing his hands from her body.

"Yep. Fine. Thanks." It is all she can muster; the twisting in her gut, feelings deep within her threatening their escape.

"And the hand?"

She raises it to show him, her natural colour beginning to return. "A lot better," she says taking it in her other hand, "You must have the healing touch."

He smiles wryly looking up from his mug, "Not really. It was just an excuse to hold your hand."

Her mouth hangs open slowly, a look of disgust forming at the sides of her mouth, curling upwards, her nose wrinkling.

Castle laughs, pleased with himself. They are both startled by Esposito who opens the door to the break room, popping his head inside.

"Beckett," he announces, getting her attention, her expression changing, "We got a body."

* * *

_Sorry for the lack of updates to this. I really did mean to continue this story and Beckett's struggle with her true feelings.  
But BOUND takes up the majority of my time. Hopefully I can continue to keep up with this as well.  
Thanks for reading and those loverly reviews..._


	4. City Heat

_Chapter 4: City Heat_

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Heavy feet on concrete, Kate Beckett exits her vehicle. Heat bounces off the dark pavement hitting her chest as she steps from the cool air of her cruiser into the thick stench of New York City.

"God, it's hot out here," Castle remarks edging up to her, "You'd almost swear it's a heat wave." He nudges her with his elbow, jamming a rib. "Get it? _Heat wave_."

Beckett rolls her eyes, pulling away from him, seeing Detective Kevin Ryan ahead. Dr. Lanie Parish with him, kneeling, a yellow tarp over the body.

"What do we got Ryan?" Beckett asks, hands together, fingers spread.

"John Doe. Aged 25 to 35. Death due to blunt force trauma."

Dr. Parish jumps in. "This guy had a number done to him. We're talking blunt force trauma to the extreme here. My guess; he was pistol whipped to death." Parish lifts the edge of the tarp for Beckett and Castle to see.

Castle cringes, turning away, "Oh gross," he exclaims. "Why not just shoot him?"

Beckett with no reaction turns to Ryan. "Have we swept the scene?"

"We did," he sighs. "We got nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I think that's what the man said," Castle remarks, leaning in to whisper in her ear. Beckett turns to glare at him. He shrugs his shoulders, "What? That's just what I heard."

She furrows her brow, "Seriously, Castle. Have I taught you nothing?"

"What?" Castle questions, something drawing his attention from across the street.

"Little blood at the scene. The lack of a murder weapon. No sign of a struggle. Kind of makes you wonder if our Vic was killed somewhere else and then- " Beckett, looks up from the crime scene, "Where the hell does he think he's going?" She places her hands on her hips.

Dr. Parish stands beside her, both of them looking in the direction of Richard Castle as he crosses the street entering a corner store.

"Damn girl," Dr. Parish interrupts.

"I really need to put a leash on him." Beckett pauses, thinking.

"Maybe a shock collar?" the ME suggests.

Beckett sighs heavily, "You have no idea."

Dr. Parish and Ryan fall silent, looking up at Beckett, searching for something behind her meaning.

"What?" she questions them.

Dr Parish shrugs her shoulders, looking down at her clipboard to write. "Oh nothing," she says, and then with the glare of Beckett boring into her, "Castle and a dog collar? Perhaps a hidden fantasy of yours?"

Beckett reaches out slapping Parish on the arm. Ryan chuckles to himself and walks away, making a notation on his pad of paper. Lanie looks up at Beckett who looks at her disgusted having just witnessed Ryan speaking to a fellow officer.

"Oh, come on girl," Dr. Parish says raising her hands in her defense. "I was only teasing."

Beckett motions her head toward Ryan who laughs looking in her direction.

"Yeah, well, thanks. They'll be going on about it for weeks now."

Dr. Parish smiles, "It's common knowledge Kate as hard as you don't want it to be."

"What is?"

"You and Castle and your schoolyard crush."

Beckett scoffs. "I do not have a crush on Castle."

Dr. Parish raises an eyebrow, "Oh really. You want to try that one again on me. This time with a little bit of truth behind it."

"I don't," Beckett says forcefully.

"You keep telling yourself that." She clicks her pen.

"Because it's the truth."

"Your nose is growing long Pinocchio."

Frustrated, Beckett turns from her, walking away.

Dr. Parish takes a few steps and reaches out to grab her hand. "Kate. Wait," and then, "I'm sorry."

Beckett turns to look at her coldly.

"You OK?" she questions the detective, "You don't seem yourself today."

"Long night." Beckett says remembering, her face relaxing, "Very, long night."

Dr. Parish frowns, "Trouble with FBI man?"

Beckett looks around them, breathing relief when she sees no one within ear shot. "Yes. And I'd appreciate it if this doesn't get around too."

"What happened?"

Beckett sighs, looking for a sign of Castle, "It's a long story."

Dr. Parish looks down at the body of their victim, "I don't think he's going anywhere," she reaches out to grab Beckett's hand again, lightly squeezing it. "So spill."

"Some other time," Beckett tells her.

Dr. Parish places her clipboard under her arm, letting go of her hand, "Fine then. Tonight over drinks."

"Don't think I'm much in the mood," she declares kicking her heel into the sidewalk.

"Come on girl. You need to go out. Shake loose. Live a little."

Beckett shakes her head.

"I won't take no for an answer," and as Beckett opens her mouth to object again, "Not this time." A hand up in front of her, "I won't have you sitting around moping over FBI what's his name. We're going dancing. End of story."

Beckett sighs. "But I-"

"What did I miss?" Castle interrupts causing Beckett to jump. He smiles, Popsicle in hand. "Wow," he says looking Beckett up and down, then turning to the Medical Examiner, "She really is jumpy today." He puts the treat in his mouth.

"Castle," Beckett groans, "Where the hell were you?"

Castle points across the street, "Corner store. It's so frickin' hot out here." He offers the other half of the Popsicle to Beckett. "You want to share? It's cherry."

Beckett crosses her arms, turning to get another look at the body, leaving the pair behind.

Castle leans toward Dr. Parish. "Is it just me or is she a little out of sorts today? She's a little extra something today."

She smiles up at Castle, poking him with a single finger. "You are a sharp tack aren't you," she says mockingly.

"Was it me?"

Dr. Parish shakes her head. "No. Not this time." She looks toward Beckett. "Something about a bad date I guess."

"Should I be worried?" He takes a bite of his Popsicle, adding, "About this new guy."

Dr. Parish cocks her head and stares up at him gaping.

Castle is taken aback. "What?" he questions, the bit of Popsicle nearly falling from his mouth.

"She didn't tell you who she's seeing?"

Castle turns his body toward her, lowering his voice, "No. Why? Who is she seeing?" he asks excitedly.

Dr. Parish closes her mouth nodding slowly and looks back to Beckett smiling wryly, "Of course."

"What?" he asks again. "Who?!"

Beckett stands walking toward them, breaking them of their conversation. She reaches forward grabbing the wrapper from Castle's hand, unwrapping, putting the iced treat in her mouth. Dr. Parish takes her leave of them, the body now being prepped for transport.

Castle stares at the treat in Beckett's hand. The steady motion of it entering her mouth, her lips guiding, tongue flicking.

"God, it's hot out here," she gasps, watching the body being removed.

Castle eyes are set on her motions; a hand that comes to her chest. His breathing heavy in the thick air, focused on her lips, her tongue quickly turning red from the food colouring in the Popsicle.

"You have no idea," he says swallowing.

She hears the change in his voice and looks up at him questionably; his eyes focused on her lips. She licks the treat noticing his eyes following her and stops.

It is moments before he looks up to her furrowed brow, her cheeks freshly blushed. The heat within him dying slowly, like the burning embers of a fire. Aware that she has caught him in his planned fantasy, never sure if she'd take the bait, he coughs slightly. "Another Popsicle?"

Kate Beckett rolls her eyes, and takes a large bite of her treat causing Castle to cringe in imaginary pain and gasp.

A vibration in her pocket, she pulls out her cell reading her latest text message and frowns. Without a word, Beckett pulls from Castle, allowing him to skip after her like a love sick puppy.

"Ryan you got this?" she asks.

Ryan nods to her, face turning to concern.

"I'm clocking out," and at Ryan's nod adds, "You can fill me in later."

"Sure," Ryan agrees.

"Where are we going?" Castle asks.

She turns stopping him with a hand to his chest, feeling his body hot under her touch. "I am going home. You... " she trails off, "Well... you... I don't care where you go." She turns on her heel leaving Castle standing, her discarded wrapper in his hand.

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_Thanks for reading... :) More to come soon..._


	5. Delusions

_Chapter 5: Delusions_

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There is a quiet rapping on the door of Kate Beckett. She hesitates; fully certain of who stands on the other side. She inhales deeply, straightening her shirt with steady hand. The count of three and she turns the knob, pulling on the handle, opening the door freely. Will Sorenson stands on the other side, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He offers them before entering.

"Thank you," she says with a smile and moves aside allowing him to enter.

She moves to her adjoining kitchen, reaching into a cupboard drawing a vase and fills it with water. She places the flowers in the vase and turns back to Sorenson.

There is an awkward silence held between them before Beckett is the first to speak.

"Will, I want-"

"It was my fault," he interrupts.

"Your fault?" Beckett questions cocking her head. "How?"

He takes a step toward her standing in her aura, her scent calming his nerves. "I reacted too carelessly. I shouldn't have run out like that. You've been tired lately," he blushes, "And you're with him every second of the day."

"Will, I really-" she tries.

He puts his hands on her shoulders leaning toward her, "Let me finish," and as her eyes reach his, "I think you were just exhausted and let a little slip of the tongue go." He removes his hands from her, reaching down to hold her own. "I need you Kate. I can't lose you."

She sighs slightly. "I feel like I've heard this before." She looks down, hands shaking.

"I know," he looks down as well, "And that was my fault. I was stupid. I can't lose you again. So let me make it up to you."

She shudders as he brings her hands up to his body, pressing them against his chest.

"Are you shaking?" he looks down seeing her silent before him, "What is it?"

There is worry in his voice and she looks up at him, seeing it clear within his eyes.

"I can't do this," she says almost too easily, her shaking resonating in her voice.

"What?"

"I can't go back there again with you," she looks away.

He stands still, a deer caught in headlights. Realising his pleas are empty.

"You made up your mind already haven't you?"

"Will, I'm-"

"You could have stopped me."

"You wouldn't let me speak."

He nods his head slowly, anger steady, restraints in place, keeping his emotions from flowing freely. "You don't want to give this another try?"

"I think it's run it's course," she declares truthfully.

"I was so stupid to think that we hand a chance; you've been in love with him for years now."

"That's not fair."

"Not fair?" he gapes, "What Kate? Does the truth hurt?"

"Will please."

"Were you just using me? Can't get the balls up to get a little piece of Writer Monkey ass."

Without warning, Beckett swings a straight arm, slapping him across the face. Sorenson, a hand to his face, keeps his sights away from her for a moment catching his breath. Slowly he turns back, glaring, face red.  
"If you think he won't hurt you you're wrong. You obviously have high standards."

She crosses her arms in front of her, "Not high standards Will, just all of the standards you are not."

Sorenson nods angrily walking toward the counter pulling the bouquet from the water. She follows him to the door as he opens it attempting to slam it shut. She catches it instead.

"You know Will, you have a bad habit of walking away," she shouts out to him as he walks briskly down the hallway.

As Sorenson places his hands on the handle to the stairs, Richard Castle, opens the door, stopping dead in his tracks, face to face with Will Sorenson. Castle looks Sorenson up and down. Beckett stands shaking in her door.

Castle points to the bouquet. "For me?" and then cocking his head, "Willy, you shouldn't have?"

Sorenson glares looking back at Kate and in turning back to the writer, shoves the bouquet against Castle's chest. "Here," he says, "I hope you two are happy together." He blows past Castle taking steps two by two. Castle stands still, motioning toward the door. He looks to Beckett whose hands have reached her face covering her mouth.

"What's with him?"

But as he edges nearer to her, the bouquet out offering it back to her, he sees the sadness in her eyes, the slouch in her posture.

He reaches a hand out touching her shoulder gently. "You OK?" he offers solemnly.

Instead she sighs, eyes brimming with tears. "What is it Castle?"

"I can't find my cell and thought maybe you had it," he says looking into her apartment.

"And I would have it because..." she trails off, her tone low, drained.

"I might have left it in the car."

She moves from the doorway allowing him to enter behind her. Castle skips at the door as her back turns. He watches as she takes the flowers to her garbage can, pausing before tossing them inside.  
Castle, his face twisted in confusion, stares at her. A glimmer of hope traces weakly across his face. She turns to him leaning on her kitchen counter, her other hand on her hip.

"The car is at the precinct," she sighs, "You should check there."

Castle nods. "Oh. I see. I thought you might have it still."

"I don't."

"Oh," he pauses looking around him, taking in her apartment. "Sure is hot, isn't it?"

Beckett smiles removing herself from the counter. "Would you like a drink Castle?" Her question sounding less like a request and more of a statement.

Castle steps forward swiftly, snapping his fingers. "You know, I would love one."

She draws a pitcher from her fridge and places it in front of them. Picking two glasses from the cupboard she pours a glass of iced tea for Castle and one for her, offering it to him.

"Thank you," he says taking a sip, letting the cool liquid quench his thirst. She takes a sip herself unwilling to look at him, at the hesitation in his features. "So do you need me to go beat him up or something?"

She looks up, a wide grin on her face, "Seriously? You and what army?"

"Hey," he flexes his arm for her, feeling his bicep with his free hand. "I can handle Mr. FBI perfect... agent... man... thing..." He pauses looking up contemplating his attempt at the nickname. Unimpressed with himself, he looks into his glass.

She raises the glass to her lips, "Trust me. He's far from perfect." She contemplates before drinking.

"So," Castle starts putting down his glass, "Is this the last of Mr. FBI?" There is a glimmer of hope behind his words.

Beckett looks up unimpressed, eyes glaring. "No way, Writer Monkey," she says causing Castle to cringe at her words, "There will be no digging for your next book. I told you-"

"I know. I know. I have enough juice." He folds his hands, fixing his stare with her, "My intent was for a more personal reason."

Beckett stops herself before her mouth gapes open, before a smile begins to develop. Castle thinks he sees the faint glimmer starting at the corners of her mouth, but before he can focus, it vanishes.  
Beckett looks back into her glass, swirling the liquid. "Yeah well, Mr. FBI was a mistake. One I made twice."

"They say third times the charm," Castle tests.

She smiles. "I don't have that sort of patience."

"Good."

She looks up.

"He doesn't deserve you."

She blinks. "I know."

There is an awkward silence between them, causing Beckett to shift her weight; Castle to loosen his jaw, opening his mouth.

Suddenly there is the ringing of a cell phone, a vibration within the coat pocket of Richard Castle. He looks to her, brow furrowed, reaching into his pocket pulling out his cell phone. Beckett crosses her arms as he answers the call.

"Hi Hun," he speaks steadily, "How's the world's best daughter?" He nods into the receiver looking to Beckett whose lips grow tight.

The conversation is short; Castle ending the call, presenting his cell phone before placing it back in his pocket. "There it is?" he gasps mockingly.

Beckett shakes her head. "Are we finished here?"

Castle is shocked and holds his mouth open. "You're kicking me out?" He steps away from the counter. "But I thought maybe we could give each other makeovers," and at the expression on her face, "OK," he says rushed as she edges up to him, "We could do each others hair." Beckett pushes him toward the door, her hand to his chest. He lowers his voice seductively. "We could always play doctor."

"Castle, out," she commands growing tired of his antics.

He pouts as she opens the door, reaching behind him. "I swear I didn't know where my cell phone was." He is backed into the hallway.

"Say goodnight Rick."

"Goodnight Rick."

She closes the door on him, turning to lean against the hardwood. She inhales deeply, exhaling, releasing the knot in her stomach. She can tell he has not moved from the door; contemplating the possibilities.  
With unsteady hand she reaches into her pocket pulling out her cell phone and dials.

"Dr. Parish, here," the Medical Examiner answers.

"It's Kate. You busy?"

"Just slicin' and dicin'." Beckett can hear the smile in her words, "For you girl, I'm never busy. What's up?"

Beckett exhales almost too shakily. "I want to take you up on your offer for tonight."

Dr. Parish sighs, "I believe it wasn't an offer. It was a request."

"Whatever," Beckett says shortly, "What time?"

"Nine thirty good for you?"

"Sounds perfect," Beckett says smiling.

There is a squeal on the other line. "Girl, we are goin' to get out drink on to-night!"

* * *

_I love you guys.. thanks for keeping up with this story. Your kind reviews keep me writing...  
Writer Ninja out! :P_


	6. Drumfire

_Chapter 6: Drumfire_

* * *

"Kate!" Lanie Parish shouts from the long line. "Over here."

Kate Beckett looks up to see her friend waving erratically. Beckett smiles heading to the front of the line ignoring the harsh looks she receives when she dips under the guard rope.

"I've been standing here for what seems like eternity. I was beginning to think you were backing out on me." Lanie divulges. She looks to the front of the line, sighing. "What was the reason for the hold up?" she asks.

Beckett lowers her head playing with her fingers. "Sorry Lanie," she sighs. "I couldn't decide on what to wear."

The Medical Examiner raises an eyebrow and cocks her head. "Girl you live in the greatest shopping district in the entire world. What the hell is your excuse?"

Beckett shrugs her shoulders.

"Well turn around girlfriend. Let's see." Lanie rotates a finger instructing her to turn around.

Beckett smiles shyly, turning. Hips swiveling, she raises her hands bent at the wrist; a clutch purse held tightly in one of them. Her hair tousled with plenty of volume due to the humidity in the night's air. She wears a black, sheer blouse which shows hints of a black bra underneath. A knee length, black skirt with slit and shiny black heels complete her outfit.

"Very sex kitten," Lanie says, ducking quickly to avoid Beckett's swing.

Lanie laughs and wipes her brow as thunder rolls by above them. "You think it might rain?" she asks.

Beckett looks up into the dark sky; thick clouds move by them quickly. "I hope so." She looks back to Lanie. "Maybe it will get rid of this heat."

The line moves a few inches. Lanie looks to the front of it, sighing loudly. "Hey!" she yells getting the bouncer's attention. "How about letting us in sometime this century?!"

People standing in front of them turn in their direction to stare at Lanie; this includes the watchful eye of the bouncer.

Embarrassed, Lanie slouches dramatically. "What?" she aloud. "I was just wondering."

Beckett blushes from the attention and turns to her friend shaking her head. She looks up making eye contact with the bouncer who now leaves his post walking toward them.

"Dammit Lanie," Beckett sighs. "You'll get us kicked out and we're not even in yet."

The bouncer, tall, dark, handsome, with thick, muscular arms, approaches, his face serious. He stops in front of them, eyes glued on the detective. He looks her up and down. He is only slightly taller than the heeled Beckett.

"I'm sorry," Beckett pleads. "Sometimes she just opens her mouth and out stuff comes. Most of it crap."

"Hey." Lanie protests quietly beside her.

The bouncer eventually smiles at Beckett, turning to glare at Lanie who cocks her head. He turns back to Beckett, looking her over; slowly, seductively, making her stomach feel heavy, her heartbeat rising. He unhooks the roped barrier for her, as she stands still in shock. He places a hand to her back gently pushing her out of the line, eyes falling below her waist as she walks away from him toward the entrance. He breaks eye contact with her body long enough to reattach the barrier leaving Lanie inside the line.

"Ex_cuse _me?" Lanie questions.

Beckett swivels, smiling at the bouncer. "Oh. She's with me."

Lanie nods her head. "Yeah. I'm with her."

The bouncer smiles at Beckett again, eventually turning to Lanie who now stands with her arms crosses. He lifts the barrier waving her through.

"Thank you," she says quickly, catching up to Beckett.

"Don't thank me," the bouncer says, getting the ladies' attention. He stares seductively again at Beckett.

Beckett blushes again, unable to hold back the grin on her face.

Lanie nudges Beckett. "Tell your mom _thanks _will you?"

Beckett smiles. "Why?"

Lanie nods to the doorman to the club as he allows them entrance to the club. Once inside she turns to her friend. "Because you and those legs of yours just got us into this club."

***

In a dark corner two friends sit behind empty glasses. They laugh loudly together, Beckett bringing a hand to cover her mouth.

"Sweetheart!" Lanie calls out to a server who walks by; the young man turns, approaching their table. "More," she says pointing to their glasses.

The two ladies watch the young man walk away. Beckett looking him over and sits up straight looking approvingly at Lanie who shakes her head in return.

"What?!" Beckett asks, taken aback at the look on her friend's face.

"Girl," she says raising an eyebrow. "You're old enough to be his mom."

Beckett reaches out making contact with Parish's shoulder. "I am not," she says defensively.

Lanie smiles, rubbing her shoulder. "Besides," she pauses, swirling the remaining liquid in her glass. "You have bigger fish to fry." And leaning forward, "Or should I say monkeys?"

Beckett sighs loudly. "Oh there it is. Just when I was beginning to have fun."

"Come on, Kate." She reaches across to touch Beckett's hand. "You knew it was going to come up eventually."

"It didn't have to," Beckett; pulls her hand away; their drinks arriving at the table.

"But it does." She looks at their server. "You," Lanie says getting his attention. "What's your name Hun?"

The server looks up smiling. "Ben."

"Ben, now there's a nice honest name." Lanie continues.

"Thank you."

She looks back to Beckett assuming her face flushed red in the dim lighting. "Ben?" she asks. "Would you believe that my friend here is single?"

Beckett opens her mouth unwilling to look at Ben who in turn looks to her smiling.

"Would you believe my dear Ben, that she stays at home on Saturday nights instead of getting her freak on with some hot, fun, charming writer boy?"

"Really?" Ben asks, looking at Beckett.

She looks up at him quickly, smiling shyly, turning back to her friend unimpressed.

"And why, you ask my dear Ben? You see that is the million dollar question." The medical examiner takes a sip of her drink allowing Beckett to protest, crossing her arms. Parish shakes a finger at her.

"I'm not finished."

"I think you are." Beckett takes a sip willing her senses to numb.

"I need to determine what your problem is." She takes a deep breath. "Ben? Would you care to grab a piece of my friend here. Show her a good time. Loosen her up a bit?"

Beckett places her head in her hands. "_Lanie_."

"No!" She grabs Ben's hand, pulling on it gently, the drink hitting her harder than expected. "She's a fox right; you'd hit that."

"Lanie!" Beckett gasps.

"What? You are!" Lanie protests.

Ben grabs Beckett's hand and leans back looking her slowly up and down. "Hunny, you are certainly fox material..."

"See," Lanie says motioning to Ben.

"But... I think we'd both be fighting over the shoes in your closet." He holds her hand out further. "Girl are those Dolce."

Beckett smiles smugly at Lanie and raises an eyebrow. "As a matter of fact, Ben, they are."

Lanie holds back a giggle.

Ben smiles, leaning in to talk quietly in Beckett's ear. "You look like you could use a few more." Beckett smiles as he pulls away. She nods her head. "What's your name sweetheart?" He asks, taking her hand again.

"It's Kate," she says holding back laughter.

"Well it's been a pleasure meeting you." He kisses her hand. "And a pleasure loving your shoes." He releases her hand. "I'll be right back with those drinks." And with a wink of his eye he leaves them to carry out their fit of giggles.

"So that was completely embarrassing?" Beckett remarks, calming her fit. "Thanks. Really." Reaching for her glass, she draws it to her lips, finishing it completely.

"Oh come on. It wasn't all that bad," Lanie divulges. "At least gay guys think you're hot too. That's got to count for something."

They burst into another fit of laughter as Ben arrives placing two martini glasses in front of each of them.

***

After countless glasses later, Kate Beckett and Lanie Parish return to their table fresh from the dance floor. A thin coating of sweat covering their bodies, the pair sigh heavily, slumping into their booth. A wide grin on her face, Beckett reaches, grabbing Ben the server by the belt lug as he walks by holding a tray of freshly mixed drinks.

"Ben," she slurs, holding up a twenty. "This is for reserving our table." She tucks the bill into his pocket, taking her time to pull her hand from his pants. "How about another round?

He smiles at her, holding the drinks steady and leans down to her. "Are you sure you don't want to sit this round out?"

Beckett scoffs, "Yeah. I'm sure." She pushes him away playfully, motioning him away with her hands. "Now, shoo shoo. Mixy mixy."

She smiles with wide grin at Lanie sighing again. "I'm glad we did this." She admits wholeheartedly.

"Me too," Lanie says looking to her glass seeing the bottom. "I don't think I've seen you with a smile on your face for a long time."

"I smile," Beckett defends, looking down to the bar searching for her server.

"When he's around maybe." Lanie smirks.

"I do not."

"Only because you like toying with him." Lanie puts the glass to her lips searching for remnants.

Beckett slaps her hand down onto the table. "I do not."

Lanie shakes her head. "You can shake your pretty little head all you want girlfriend, but you're not getting away with this."

"Away with what exactly," Beckett leans back, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

"The fact that you won't admit to yourself that you're a party pooper; a stick in the mud. That you find it difficult to let loose and have some fun once in awhile. The fact that you see these qualities in Castle and it scares you. Scares you so much you clam up when he's around, hiding your true feelings."

Ben cuts Lanie's speech short, placing drinks in front of them. As soon as he is out of earshot, Beckett mutters, "Thank you, Dr. Phil."

"Kate," Lanie says, putting her drink down. "You're by the book. That's all there is to it. You need to let loose and have fun."

"I'm not always by the book," she says sluggishly, taking another sip.

"Really?" Lanie opens her eyes wide. "When's the last time you did anything risky? Anything spontaneous?"

Beckett smirks, raising an eyebrow and looks around her. She stands bracing herself on the table and downs the rest of her drink.

"What are you doing?" Lanie asks, worried.

"Being spontaneous."

Lanie's mouth hangs open as she sees her friend walk away, slightly off center.

Beckett saunters toward the bar, and in finding the first man she sees, runs her fingers playfully across his back. The man turns to look at her, stunned as Beckett brings her lips to his locking them in a kiss. Their lips move together rapidly; Beckett heatedly enticing him on. She opens her eyes slowly, something behind him draws her attention. A shorter woman, stands with her mouth hung open; a strange woman with her hands all over her husband.

Lanie sees the trouble, but it is too late. She bounds across the room to stand beside her friend.

"Luke!" the shorter woman screams. "What the hell is this?!"

"She kissed me," he screams back, defending.

"You bitch!" The woman reaches out with short arms to Beckett, who in turn takes a step back.

Lanie intervenes catching a arm, a fist before they make contact with her shaky friend.

"Honest mistake," Lanie declares. "She thought he was someone else."

"The hell she did." The woman pushes against Lanie. "Let go of me dammit."

"Girlfriend," Lanie urges, finally letting go of her. "She meant no harm. I'm telling you, she thought it was someone else. Didn't you?" Lanie asks looking over her shoulder at Beckett who stands with her fingers to her lips.

"Did I what?" Beckett asks, further infuriating the woman in front of her, causing Lanie to intervene again.

"Kate, tell them that you thought this nice, happily married man, was someone else."

Beckett smiles letting go of her lips. "Honestly. I thought he was someone else. My bad. Where the heck is Rick, anyways?" She looks around, searching blindly.

***

Once tensions are cooled, Lanie meets Beckett at their table, staring blankly in front of her.

Lanie sits with a sigh attempting to draw Beckett's attention. "Just so we're clear, when I said be a little spontaneous, I wasn't saying to do that."

Beckett does not look up and continues to stare in front of her.

"Earth to Detective." Lanie says waving her hand in front of Beckett's face.

Beckett blinks and stares back at Lanie. "You were right," she says. "I am a stick in the mud."

"Ah, come on girl," Lanie says reaching out to take Beckett's hand. "I was only teasing."

"No," Beckett says shaking her head. "You're right." She blinks straightening her back. "I should go talk to him."

"Now?" Lanie asks choking.

"Yeah. Why not?"

Lanie laughs, patting her hand. "Because you're not only half in the bag, my dear, you're all the way in and more."

"But I need to talk to him," Beckett says sadly.

"Then talk to him tomorrow or the next day, when you've had a chance to sober up."

"I think I should go now." She nods slowly, slurring her words. "Get this off my chest."

Lanie shakes her head again. "No way. You're going one place, and that's home." She raises her eyebrows at Beckett. "This can wait. Just one more day."

Beckett thinks it over for a moment, finally finding reason and nods. "OK. You're right. Again." She smiles at her friend. "What do you say we leave this place?"

Lanie nods, "I just have to make a quick trip to the ladies room."

Beckett stands grabbing her clutch. "Good call."

She offers an arm for Lanie to hook onto; the two of them giggling as they make their way unsteadily through the maze of people gathered.

***

Lanie exits the bathroom stall, washes up and waits. She stands by the door with arms crossed waiting and waiting. After several minutes she steps outside the bathroom door, searching. To no avail, no Kate Beckett can be seen.

***

The night's sky opens, greeting a torrent of rain, drenching the city of New York. Taxi cabs whiz by, splashing water onto sidewalks. Rain gutters spill their contents out into the streets, water running freely to drains, disappearing below the city.

With wobbly steps, Kate Beckett makes her way up a busy street. Her clutch purse under arm; her shoes making sloshing sounds under foot. With each step she edges nearer the upper east side, drawing toward the condo of Richard Castle.


	7. Torrent

_Chapter 7: Torrent_

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_

Rain outside, heavy on rooftops and window panes. The skies of New York open their travesty on it's citizens killing with it the heat of the past few days.

There is a knock on the door; hesitation lies in it's rapping. With socked feet Richard Castle treads heavily to the door, drink in hand. He looks through the peep hole standing back pausing, shaking his head. He opens the door without another moment's hesitation making way for one very wet, very unsteady Detective Kate Beckett.

Her hair dripping on hardwood flooring, her shoes in hand, she makes dramatic motions turning to stand in front of him as he shuts the door. "I thought you were never going to let me in," she says holding a hiccup.

"Hello Detective," he says, taking a step toward her, "To what do I owe this pleasure." He can see now that she is soaked to the bone; her clothing hugging her body closely, leaving little of her figure to be imagined. Her body hard before him; the body of a fit New York city cop.

"Oh I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I'd stop by." She takes the drink from his hand, smelling the liquor finishing the remnants.

"You were in the neighbourhood?" he questions, " Kate you don't live anywhere near here."

"I know," she says hitting him with her shoes. "That's because I was on a hot date."

She giggles to herself flinging her shoes and small clutch away from them to rest at the door.

"Have you been drinking?"

She pinches her fingers together in the air. "Just a little."

"And you're wet."

"Right you are!" she exclaims, impressed with his discovery. "That's because it's raining outside." She pokes him with a finger getting nearer to him to press her body against him. "You know, you'd make a good Detective one day. If only you weren't so damn cute."

Something twists within him; his Beckett vulnerable before him, her protective shell lowered at the moment; feelings naked and exposed.

"Did you walk here in the rain?" he asks as she looks up at him.

She nods, her eyes smokey, lazy and relaxed. She parts her lips, licking them and runs her hands up his chest.

"I wanted to see you," she declares. "I missed you."

His heart beating out of his chest, he can swear that she can feel it through the thick fabric of his t-shirt.

Finally she sighs looking up at him, standing barefoot, balanced on the balls of her feet.  
"Kiss me," she instructs him.

When he does not move she grows impatient and reaches for his neck, pulling him toward her. "I said kiss me Castle."

He sighs, pushing against the pull of her hand. "You know I can't do that."

"And why not?" she pouts.

"Because you're drunk."

"So."

He puts his hands up to brace her back as she looses her footing falling forward on him.

"See," he says, "You're a mess."

She shakes her head, regaining her step and pulls on him again. "Please."

He sighs fighting with himself and his better judgment. "I can't."

His hands still to her back as she pulls from him abruptly. Turning, losing her balance, she falls to the floor before he can catch her. "Aw. Jesus Kate." He extends his hand to offer her help, but she pushes his hand away unimpressed.

"I can get up myself," she tells him though clenched teeth, her wet clothing dripping ,causing a small pool to collect where she sits slumped. She makes one attempt to lift herself but only rises a few inches. Bringing her hand to her mouth, there is little warning before her body begins to heave, spilling her sickness on Castle's hardwood flooring.

"Damn." It is all he can say.

Through sobs she begins to apologize, turning from him as he crouches beside her to hold her shoulders. Her teeth rattling together, her body convulsing in shivers, Castle takes little instruction from her now as he tucks his hands under her, lifting her tall frame into his arms. With little effort he manages to lift her up his stairs to his master en suite allowing her to rest on his toilet seat as he turns to run hot water in his shower. Testing the water, making a final adjustment he turns back to Beckett. Her body convulsing again, this time she turns to the sink. She continues to sob hands clawing at the porcelain in front of her. Her face is flushed, her lips blue. As she begins to calm from the heaving, he helps her up to a standing position guiding her into the shower to stand fully clothed beneath the running hot water. She stands for a second leaning her head against the side of the shower stall. Afraid to leave her, he stands outside of it; tiny droplets of water hitting him as they deflect off her body.

After several seconds, she shakes her head slightly and stands upright, lips turning red in the hat of the shower. She reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulling it, raises it over her head exposing a black bra. With a tug to the back of her skirt, she lowers the zipper letting the sopping article fall to the floor. He stands watching unable to turn away, his eyes set on her features as she twists her face. He looks away as she brings clumsy fingers to the back of her bra unclasping it, handing it to Castle who sets it aside with the rest of her clothes. In seconds, a laced thong is added to the pile as well.

His hands reach up to close the glass door of the shower stall. Her hand reaches out to hold his, her sights set downward; the silhouette of her body opaque as steam rises.

He reassuringly takes her hand from his, pushing aside a few wet strands of hair from her face. "I won't be far," he says carefully.

He turns and sits on the toilet seat, looking up occasionally to watch her body move. Occasionally, she will lean against the glass door, her figure more visible to him. And he'll stare admiring her physique, wishing this were a better situation and he could hold onto her while she wept.

Castle stands now and reaches for a fresh towel from a shelf to his right. Unfolding the oversized towel, he opens the door careful not to show his admiration. She stares dumbfounded as his eyes take her in. Her body warm from the shower, pink flesh inviting. He wishes his hands were devouring her in comfort. Finally, he meets her eyes coughing slightly from embarrassment. Offering the towel she walks unsteadily toward him holding his focus. Taking a few more steps to stand close to him, she lets him wrap her in the fluffy towel. Without another word, Castle obliges wrapping his arms around her. They are quiet for a moment until she lowers her head to place her wet hair against his chest soaking through his shirt. His hands begin to move on her back slowly in rhythm to her soft breathing. And then he hears it; a soft muffled sob.

He leans back grabbing her face with both hands. "Hey," he says soothingly, "None of that."

She smiles weakly; her eyes still dark, vacant of the wildness she entered his apartment with. Kate Beckett has surrendered, now weak in his hands; completely trusting in him.

He has seen hints of this true feeling on a few occasions in passing, but never with this assuredness, never this true. He knows he should say something further but nothing comes to mind that he would not regret in the future if the old Detective Beckett were to return. So instead he makes the decision to place his lips flat against her forehead, pulling her in tighter against him. He feels her shiver; a heavy sigh releasing from her. He pulls her away quickly placing another kiss to her forehead before stepping back to grab another towel for her hair.

"Stay here," he instructs. "I'll be right back." He returns in moments with a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He smiles at her as she looks up, an eyebrow cocked. "OK," he chuckles. "So they might be a little big, but there's a draw string."

She smiles, staring blankly, still without saying a word.

"How are you feeling?"

She looks up to him with watery eyes. "My stomach is in knots," she tells him honestly.

"We'll get you something for that," he places the clothing on the counter. "I'll let you get dressed."

He leaves her, closing the door slightly and leans against the adjoining wall. It is moments before he hears her move, muffling sounds as she puts on his clothes. There is a thump, a bump, making him call out, "Kate? You OK?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

After a few more moments, she exits the bathroom towel in her hand working furiously on her hair. His clothes hanging off her loosly, her collar bone completely free from the clothing. She let's the towel fall in her hands looking up to him, questioning. He smiles at her, shaking his head slightly.

"We can fix that."

He guides her back in the bathroom, sitting her back on the toilet seat. "I'll be right back."

He returns quickly, hair dryer, curling brush and mousse in hand. She looks to him approvingly and reaches out to take the products. She is surprised when he does not give them freely, instead placing them on the counter to her right.

"Are you qualified for such things, Mr. Castle?"

He smiles standing in front of her, lifting her chin slightly with a single finger.  
"You forget my dear Detective. I grew up with a single mother. And for the most of my time a single father." He let's her chin go, placing himself beside her. "Now kindly turn yourself and let me work my magic. You're in good hands."

She smiles lowering her chin, turning her body so he is behind her. "I know."

He runs the towel over her wet hair, pausing, holding onto her words. Continuing, he grabs the hairdryer, running his fingers through her hair as he massages her scalp. She closes her eyes, letting her head roll back on her shoulders, allowing him to work the sides of her head. She sighs causing him to smile, completely fixed on her.

He applies mousse continuing to use his fingers to comb through her hair. Finishing, he runs the curling brush through the ends of her hair. He walks around her, standing transfixed with his accomplishment. For seated in front of him, once more is Kate Beckett. He smiles lovingly as she looks up at him unsure if she should stand.

"Well?" she questions.

"Take a look."

She stands shaking, looking in the mirror and blinks ;staring back is her own reflection. With shaking hand she reaches forward, bracing herself against the counter.

He brings an arm around her, hand resting on her hip. "You OK?"

Nodding, she remarks, "Just a little dizzy."

He reaches across her body with his other hand taking hers. "Here come lie down."

"Castle I," she begins as he leads her away, across the floor to his bed.

He ignores her, pulling back his blankets sitting her down within them. "Now lie down," he tells her, guiding her by the shoulder to rest.

She does not move for him and he sighs. "There's a guest bedroom. I'll sleep there." Again she looks up at him. "And Alexis is on a sleepover. My mother is at her boyfriend's."

Beckett smiles leaning back so Castle may cover her. She flinches in pain holding her stomach.

Castle stands, "Right. I'll be right back." He returns quickly holding a glass of fizzing water and offers it to her. "Here. Drink this."

She takes the glass reluctantly, putting it to her mouth.

"It's best if you don't inhale."

She looks up at him from the glass and drinks quickly, her brow furrowing. "Christ," she exclaims finishing it, handing him the glass. "What the hell is that?"

He smiles standing. "It's best if you don't know."

***

Standing in his kitchen, Beckett's empty glass in his hand, he is distracted by a low, rumbling noise. He follows the sound tracking it to Beckett's purse, previously tossed aside at his front door. He picks the small clutch up, looking to his stairs for a sign of her and opens it. Searching the contents, he finds her cell phone, still vibrating the number flashing across the screen.

He smiles to himself picking up the call, "Hello Dr. Parish."

"Oh. Sorry." comes the voice on the other end of the line. "K, wait, who is this?"

"Come on." Castle retorts. "How does the world's sexiest ME not know my sultry voice?"

"Castle?" and then, "Oh shit."

Castle frowns into the phone. "Nice to hear from you too."

Dr Parish sighs, "Not that. Castle where's Kate?"

"Upstairs. Lying down."

There is a short gasp on the other line. "Castle. You didn't..."

"Didn't do what?" and then realizing her motives, "God no. Who do you think I am?!" he scoffs.

"I'm sorry," she returns. "I know you wouldn't hurt her." There is a long pause before she adds, "How is she?"

"She was in rough shape, but we got her all cleaned up."

"Damn."

"So were you her _hot date_ tonight?" he asks taking steps toward his stairs.

"I was," and then, "She ran out on me."

"And showed up at my door soaking wet from the rain, shoes in hand."

"Soaked?" she asks.

"Said she walked."

"Really?! That's like 10 blocks or so."

Castle shakes his head. Edging near his door peeking in. "Did you want to talk to her?" His voice turning to a whisper.

"Please."

He nears the bed to find Beckett curled on her side, eyes closed. "Sorry Lanie." He pulls the blanket over Beckett's shoulder. "Looks like she just passed out."

"Oh OK," Dr Parish pauses, "You need me to come get her?"

"No. She's fine here. I'll look after her."

"Sure," she says. "I know you will."

Castle hangs up the phone reaching to turn out the light. He puts a hand to her shoulder in the darkness and as he moves to get up, finds her hand on his, holding his fingers tight.

"Hey," he says quietly.

She rotates to face him and sits up abruptly, pushing the sheets away and in reaching out puts her arms around him pulling tightly. Her head on his shoulder, she claws at his backside until his hands freely come around her holding her tight against his body. They hold their embrace before she moves against him, her legs moving for position on him.

"Shh," he says softly, "Its OK."

Her head rolls back to loom at him, the same dark wild look in her eyes, melting him; a twinge tugging at his core. She rocks against him, knees moving to straddle him tightly.

"Kate," he tries.

His body motioning uncontrollably to her movements. Her hands move down his body to rest at his middle pulling at his shirt, fingers playful at his groin.

"Please," he begs in hoarse whisper. But she ignores him again placing her mouth on his passionately moving his lips with hers. His attempts muffled as his hands move to her hair, grasping a few locks in his fingers, as she writhes in his lap. He accepts her gift returning it over and over. Her hands continuing to toy with him, grabbing one his hands, guiding him to cup her breast.

"Christ," he breathes out as she releases his hand to remain there. Without realizing it, she unbuttons his pants making him reach down to protect himself, grabbing her hands with his.

"OK, stop," he says raising his voice slightly, taking hold of the situation. She moves twice more grinding against him causing him to sigh heavily, her hands grabbing his face, begging him to look her in the eyes. Placing his hands on her lower back, he holds her steady against him.

"Please."

Her forehead pressed against him, her breathing heavy, she finally looks away, her face pulling, threatening release, tears ready to fall.

He takes a hand placing it on her chin drawing her face to his. "I told you," he says soothingly, "Its OK."

She shakes her head attempting to pull from him. He holds her firmly, not letting her go and instead pulls her closer feeling her fight against him.

"Just not right now." He holds her face again, kissing her once, and then a second time. Softly, slowly. He feels her loosen on him allowing herself to fall forward held in his grasp. "You're too special Kate," he sighs, meeting her eyes, the twisting in his gut returning, "I can't hurt you like that."

She becomes limp in his hands; putty. Falling forward, she stifles a sniffle, picking herself into his arms. She lifts herself on him, facing him and nods.

"Will you stay with me," and at the look of concern on his face continues, "I don't want to be alone." Her hands on his face now he allows her to kiss him again; their union a signed agreement. He nods letting her rise from him, tucking her legs in, she burrows in his sheets. He watches her for a second until a look of worry spreads across her features. He moves to tuck himself in beside her, his body relaxing from their heated encounter he let's himself get near to her offering an arm for her to melt in beside him. She takes it curling into him, her head on his shoulder. Her scent intoxicating, as only she could be to him, he finds her relax drifting off into sleep with him.

* * *

_Thank you for your dedication and reviews. Your excitement for this story truly makes my day...Writer Ninja loves you... :)_  
_Not sure how much is left in the tank. But we'll see.  
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_Writer Ninja says... "A writer is, after all, only half his book. The other half is the reader and from the reader, the writer learns." -- P.L. Travers_


	8. My Mistake

_Chapter 8: My Mistake_

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Hands reaching out through stillness. Breaking tension held tightly in his shoulders. He inches quietly to lay by her side, running a hand down her body to rest at her hip. A silent plea in his fingertips. He hears her release a heavy breath, held onto for too long. Her shoulders soften as she turns into him, moving her body so he is above her. His hand moving across her midriff, sending shockwaves up through her gut, tearing at strings that bind her to restraint. They are silent for a while, looking at each other through the darkness, breath gently touching each other's faces. Sensing his hesitation, she rises to meet him, her hand gently clawing at his shirt, pinching it gently between her fingers which tread carefully. She arches her back toward him, aligning her body with his, and finds him wanting. She presses deeply, a heavy breath escaping him and she smiles at her succession.

There is the closing of a door and Richard Castle turns slowly, waking from his revery, mind heavy from the stickiness of his dream. rubbing his eyes; the space beside him vacant. He squints focusing, noticing the neat pile of folded clothes beside him. He looks at the clock. The time reads 7:34am. He grunts and stretches, sighing loudly in his vacant room.

Heavy footsteps on carpeted flooring, he treads across to his bathroom, hesitant to flick the switch to his right, saving his eyes from the harshness of the light. He looks to the shower door, left ajar from the night before. Memories flooding back, vivid and concrete. He sighs again washing his hands, splashing water on his face. "This is going to be a long day," he murmurs to himself.

Her fingers pressed tightly against her temple, Kate Beckett sits willing her pain relievers to take effect. A scuffling in the hallway, the sound of familiar steps entering the bull pen, and she stands not caring to look in the direction of the doorway. She walks quickly, bounding toward the break room, reaching for her mug in her travels.

Warm hands cupping her. The memory of his tongue with hers, exploring, fighting for positioning in a fury of slick velvet. She fights against the smile threatening to cross her face.  
It is not long before he catches her, standing quietly by her side. Freshly showered, freshly shaved; his scent fills her senses. A scent she has tried roughly to be rid of. A scent which required 2 long hot showers.  
Fingertips treading across her flesh, the thickness between her legs rising to meet her. His scent against her body. The sound of their breathing quickening with each heated encounter. How she was grinding against him, the plea in her actions telling him to take her over.

Her hand shakes as she turns the valve placing fresh grinds into the espresso machine before her. Her cheeks flushed red. She stops for a second, willing him to start, her eyes held in front of her to her task at hand.

"Hey," he says carefully, quietly. "You didn't give me a chance to make you breakfast."

Beckett looks over her shoulder toward footsteps entering the breakroom. Detective Ryan enters and upon seeing her expression, looks into his vacant mug and turns on his heel. "I'll come back later," he murmurs over his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" Castle asks when they are alone once more. He places a hand on the mug in front of her, realigning it. He pulls his hand away slowly attempting to draw her focus.

She shifts the mug aggressively under the spout turning to him as the machine starts to percolate. "I don't want to do this, OK?" She tells him, flustered.

"Don't want to do what?" He asks with genuine concern.

"I don't want to talk about it." She sighs heavily. "All I want to say is that I feel terrible. I'm sorry for everything." She pauses looking up at him. "Don't make that face," she says. "I told you I'm sorry."

He places a hand on top of hers immediately sending electric shock up her body. Body prickling with the sensation of their skin moving in hungry unison.

"It's ok." His touch is gentle, tracing the lines down her long fingers. "I told you that. I'm just glad you came to me."

She moves her jaw slowly fighting the urge to clench her teeth.

Esposito enters the breakroom now, mug in hand. He stops in his tracks looking up to Beckett's face. Quickly he turns. "I'll come back later."

She looks down at her hand finding it held tightly in his own and pulls it back from him. When she is satisfied that no one is around, she continues. "This place will talk. I don't want anything started. I'd appreciate it a professional courtesy..."

_And just like that_, Castle thinks to himself, _gone is his relaxed Beckett with see-through exterior. The brick wall up again._ He sighs. _Everything was back as it should be._

"You're shaking. I really think we should talk?"

She is willing, begging before him and he can see the struggle within her, the ongoing fight. "I don't want to say anything else that I might regret," she says, her words cutting him.

"So last night...," he begins.

"It was a mistake. I was drunk. There was a guy..."

"What guy?"

She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter, what guy." She takes her mug out from beneath the spout. "It was a mistake. I shouldn't have done that to you. And you were such a gentleman..." She slowly pours milk into her mug and stirs.

He takes another step toward her. "But I didn't mind..." He pauses, reaching out to touch her arm. "I didn't mind any of it."

She slowly brings her mug to her lips and he can swear he sees the faint hint of a smile.

"You didn't feel it?" he asks causing her to choke on her coffee.

"Did I feel what?" she asks, the lines on her face falling. She attempts another try at a drink.

"This." He motions with his hands between them.

"This?" she asks putting a hand to his chest. "What is it you want me to say exactly?"

She lets her hand rest for a moment. Memories returning of the night before; begging for him, pleading, feeling the same twinge in her gut return, causing her to blush. He reaches out quietly placing a hand on her waist gently pulling her toward him without remorse.

She stares at her hand on his chest, feels the quickened beating beneath her fingertips. The mug grows heavy in her grasp.

There is murmuring in the hallway, neither of them move to greet those who enter; Ryan and Esposito stand still, staring at the pair. Quickly she looks up pulling her hand from Castle's chest, his hand falling from her hip. "What is it?" Beckett asks, flustered.

"We... just want... some coffee..."

Without looking Beckett nods, taking firm grasp on her mug and leaves Castle's side.

Castle lets his shoulders fall turning to glare at Detectives Esposito and Ryan as they edge near him. In perfect unison they place their mugs under spout.

"Perfect timing guys," Castle mutters. "Thanks."

Castle turns on his heel leaving behind two grinning Detectives, smiles from ear to ear.

* * *

_As always... thanks for your reviews and your dedication... Writer Ninja loves you..._


	9. Ignorance

_Chapter 9: Ignorance_

* * *

Detective Kate Beckett walks into Examination Room 4, the door swinging behind her nearly hitting her from behind. Medical Examiner Lanie Parish looks up from her table and reaches beside her to take a clipboard in hand. Her eyes squinting through the overhead lighting, she tilts her head in Beckett's direction.

"Hey girl," Dr. Parish greets hesitantly. "How's it going?" She steps away from the table before Beckett can reach the body.

Beckett frowns. "Oh God not you too."

Lanie cocks her head. "What? I can't ask my girl 'How's it going'?" She crosses the clipboard at her chest.

"I don't think I like your tone." Beckett takes a step to the side in an attempt to avoid Lanie's glare.

"Now hold on," Lanie puts a hand up, sighs contemplating, and continues. "I see the hangover is in full force."

"Among other things."

Lanie looks to the door. "I was meaning to ask you where your tag along was this morning." She smiles. "You forget to take him out for a walk."

Beckett sighs heavily fighting back her anger. "You could say that." She crosses her arms. "Remind me never to go drinking with you again."

Lanie puts a hand to her chest. "You're blaming this on me?"

"I am."

"May I ask 'why'?"

Beckett sighs unable to find any words. She uncrosses her arms and crosses them back again in frustration.

"Look girl," Lanie begins, placing the clipboard down beside her. "I told you to stay with me. I told you I was going to take you home. You ran out on me, remember? So don't hold me accountable for your little escapade last night."

"It wasn't an escapade."

"Then what was it," Lanie sighs. "When I called you were nestled snug in Writer Boy's bed."

Beckett brings her hands to her face, the colour draining from her. "Oh God."

"Mmmmhmmm," Lanie continues. "I offered to come get you but he told me you were good where you were; said you were sleeping."

Beckett takes a step back, leaning her weight on a nearby table. "That's not the half of it."

Lanie crosses her arms in front of her. She cocks her head. "You going to tell me the details, or am I going to have to beat it from you."

Beckett, her hands still shielding her face in her hands, sighs. "I tried to sleep with him," she mumbles.

"Excuse me?" Lanie coughs. "Tried?" Lanie takes a step toward her friend. "Oh baby..."

"But nothing happened," Beckett divulges lowering her hands. "I... I..." She searches her friend's face, and in frustration, hides behind her hands once more. "Aw, shit."

"So you threw yourself at him, and he would have none of it?"

"I think so," Beckett mumbles.

"You think so?"

Beckett brings her hands down, looks her friend in the eye. "Parts are hazy. Pretty sure I threw up on his floor. Nearly passed out on several occasions." She pauses trying to remember. "There was a shower."

"Sweet baby Jesus!"

Beckett blushes. "What am I going to do? I'm so stupid." She attempts to catch her breath. "He cornered me this morning. Says everything is fine."

Lanie reaches out to take Beckett by both arms. "And I take it its not?"

"NO!" Beckett says flustered. "Most definitely not!"

"Girl, don't you think this might be a blessing in disguise?"

Beckett scoffs. "A blessing? Are you kidding me?" She looks around the room, searching its high corners. "Please tell me I'm on camera."

Lanie crosses her arms. "Sweetie, I know ever since he showed up here you've been having your little dreams about getting it on with Writer Boy and populating the earth with little writer-ass-kicking-detective babies," and off Beckett's reaction, "So don't try to pull the wool over my eyes, cause I know what you're all about." Lanie waves a finger at Beckett drawing her attention.

"What is this high school?"

"You tell me." Beckett stares at her friend. "You're the one with the schoolyard crush." She shakes her head. "I can't believe you're this oblivious."

Beckett sighs heavily. "The boys said you have something for me?"

Lanie uncrosses her arms and turns from her friend. "Fine. Have it your way." She reaches across a metal table and retrieves a thick folder. She turns, pushing it into Beckett's chest. "It's my report. Happy reading."


	10. Desire

_Chapter 10: Desire_

* * *

After conducting an extensive search, Richard Castle enters the break room to find Kate Beckett sitting at a table; file folder open, its contents spread out before her.

"Are you going to ignore me all day?" he says pouting, moving to stand beside her.

Kate Beckett looks up from her mug, "I don't know what you're talking about." Her eyes flutter for a moment, returning to the file. She takes a sip of the hot liquid.

"I'm talking about you running off without me. About you ignoring my input."

Kate swallows the liquid and looks up slowly. Cocking a single eyebrow she stares at him. "I'm sorry, Detective Castle. Did you have something to say regarding the case?"

Castle points in her direction waving a finger. "See? Now you're just being mean."

She smiles and leans back in her chair. "Am I hurting your feelings, _Rick_?"

"You are," he says flatly.

"I'll remember that next time I give a damn."

She reaches out bringing the mug to her lips again slowly, the smile still held on her lips. She looks into the mug and seeing it vacant pushes her chair back to stand.

His hands are on her shoulders quickly, turning her, pushing her back against the table. "Ok. Forget what I said before," he says. "Now you're really being mean."

"Castle," she says through clenched teeth. She twists her shoulders in his grasp. "Let me go."

"No," he says, moving, shortening the gap between them.

"No?" She looks up into his eyes.

"No."

"And why not?" she questions.

He shifts in his stance, drawing near so that way he may lower his hands to her hips. "I'm not letting you go until you tell me something."

She looks down from his eyes, sights set on his lips. "Tell you what exactly?"

"I think you need to tell me what you're so afraid of."

She smiles in front of him, rocks slightly on her heels. "I'm not afraid of anything Castle."

He scoffs slightly. "That's a load of crap and you know it."

She draws in a short breath, pursing her lips together. She looks over his shoulders. "Let me go, Castle."

He takes the opportunity to move his fingers on the fabric of her pants, slipping a thumb into the belt lugs at her hips.

"We both know you can get yourself out of this predicament with the slightest of ease." He smiles, leaning in toward her so she may feel the warmth of his breath. "But you won't."

Her face falls now, unable to force any emotion.

"So tell me, Detective," he says, rocking her slightly in his grasp. "What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing." She manages in a hoarse whisper.

"Nothing?"

And still staring at his mouth, she answers, "That's what I said."

He takes the moment allotted to him, leaning down to press his lips against hers and slowly draws in breath. Willing his heart to keep from racing, he moves his lips gently.

It is a moment before she answers him, the heat from their previous encounter returning fully to flush her cheeks, sending twinges to her middle. She inhales shakily, moving her lips in unison with his, accepting his tongue as it slides easily into her mouth. She greets him, suckling, the slight scratchiness of his scruff tingling on her lips. His hand moves to draw her into his body, pulling her close enough to feel his excitement. Desire throbbing within her, she breathes out against his mouth, causing him to smile against her lips.

A hand reaches up to grab the base of his hair line, and she attempts to lift herself on him, forgetting all reason, the environment she finds herself in. Castle's hands reach down to cup her and he lifts her onto the table.

World threatening to blacken at the sensation within her, she jumps up startled as an officer walks by in the corridor.

"Shit," she breathes out, turning to feverishly collect the papers on the table. She quickly places them in the folder.

He reaches out, missing her hand by inches as she walks from him, leaving him panting, willing his breathing to subside.

"Damn this place," he curses, taking long strides after her.


	11. WonderDrug

_Chapter 11: WonderDrug_

_

* * *

  
_

Richard Castle opens the door to his apartment, to a very flustered, very irate, Kate Beckett, dressed in a signature dark brown, leather jacket.

He allows her to tread past him, and closes the door slowly, resting his hands on its frame before turning to find her with arms crossed. She stands tapping one foot, weight balanced behind her.

"Hello," he says flatly. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he loops a thumb into a pocket of his jeans.

"Cut the crap, Castle," she says. Uncrossing her arms, she pivots on one foot leading the way into his office.

"Can I get you a drink?" he offers hesitantly.

"No."

"I think you need a drink."

"I don't. I'm fine." She reaches the front of his desk and turns to look at him.

"That's funny."

She stands with crossed arms and leans back on his desk. She stares at him motionless, cutting through him with her glare.

"Did I do something wrong?" He makes motions toward her, gently walking across his floor.

"You crossed a line today, Castle."

He smiles casually. "I think that line was crossed by more than just me." He is careful before her; treads slightly to stand in close proximity. He can feel the heat rising from her, the anger mounting. He sighs. "You never answered my question."

"And what question was that?" She lowers her arms, braces herself against the desk.

"If you felt something between us."

"No, pretty sure I answered that question," and off his silence, "I felt nothing," she says cocking her head toward him. "I don't have feelings for you."

He smiles at her, reaches out to touch her hand. "You see, your words may say one thing, but your tongue told me something completely different."

He watches as the heat flushes her cheeks. She bites her lip pulling her hand away. Her chest rises and falls, anger falling from her features.

He smiles as she lowers her eyes from him and he turns from her to tread toward his leather couch. He sits.

"Come here," he orders leaning back, running his hands down his lap.

She stands stock still staring at him. Her heavy breathing causing her chest to rise and fall dramatically. She cocks her head, furrowing. Her face red, she flicks her fingers.

"That was an order, Detective."

She is taken aback and looks toward retreat, toward the door she has entered a few minutes earlier and questions her motive.

"Come here," he says again, this time cooly, the words tumbling out of his mouth seductively.

She flicks a finger again and treads toward him heavily, unsure of what to tell her body to do, how to react to these sudden orders from him. Her feet bring her to stand in front of him, blocked between the coffee table behind her and Richard Castle in front of her who sits casually on leather sofa, his feet flat on the floor.

"Sit," he orders, patting his lap, his eyes travelling down her slowly, resting at her hips.

"Sit?" she questions, hands pressed against her body, keeping him from seeing her weakness for him, the shaking in her fingers. That with any touch he was going to offer would have her clamoring atop him,  
struggling for position.

Castle leans forward slowly, the creaking of his jeans on the leather sofa the only sound between them. Beckett pulls in a short breath and holds it. His hands wrap around her calves, fingers loose on her jeans. He runs his hands slowly up the fabric of her pants, gracefully, to make her shift in her stance in front of him, knees weakening. His hands take their time, running along her sides, guiding lazily to trace across her back pockets, thumbs entering. He pulls her slightly but she draws her ground, letting air from her lungs. Unable to control her own actions, hunger tugging at her core, she sees him smile and closes her eyes .

"Are you trying to seduce me, Richard Castle?" she asks timidly, cursing the hesitation in her voice; a weakness shown to him.

"Trying?" he retorts, looking up from her midriff to rest on her features, her eyes which open drunkenly. A hand travels, reaching inside her leather jacket to rest at the small of her back. He pulls her forward, more forcefully this time.

She abides finally, seeing that he is not giving up his chase, and there is a twinge in the base of her middle, causing her to bend a knee. She lowers herself, straddling tightly.

"You are far too stressed for your own damn good, Kate," he says cooly, fingers reaching in her shirt at her back, finding soft, unexplored flesh.

"And this is supposed to relieve my stress."

"If you allow yourself to give in. Yes, yes it will."

She smiles weakly, lip curling. "You know I can't do that."

"Can't or won't."

"Both."

He shakes his head at her, allows his hand to sit flat on the small of her back, fingers moving slowly within her shirt. Her arms braced on his shoulders, her elbows locked, she makes no motion toward him. She fights against the warmth, the lightning he is causing on her skin.

"I can't have you running around lying to yourself. It's unhealthy. To you. To me. To your career."

"Lying to myself?"

"Yes, about us. Telling yourself that you don't want this, that you don't want me."

"And what if I'm not ready for this. For you."

"Then say you're not ready. Don't stand there and tell me you have no feelings for me. It's insulting."

"And you're so sure that I have these feelings for you?"

"Yes. I do. Its as plain as the look on your face now. I'm positive. I can feel it in your skin now. You're trembling."

"I am not."

He cocks an eyebrow. "That mini make out session we shared..."

"I was drunk." She lowers her eyes.

"Drunk or not, there were sparks Detective." He draws her eyes to his own. "And then today... you can't tell me there weren't sparks."

She draws in a breath, unsteadily in front of him, shaking her to the core, fingers moving on her skin again.

"There weren't any sparks."

"There again. You lie. It hurts Kate. Please stop." His face falling into despair, she leans forward placing her lips on his, leaving behind a chaste kiss. Quickly, she pulls away before he has time to take a breath, before he has time to close his eyes.

"See, no sparks." She moves on him looking for retreat, pushing with her knees, but his hands run up her backside, thumbs looping into her bra strap.

"Oh come on, that hardly even counts." He pulls her forward. "You're not playing by the rules."

They look at each other for another heated moment, finally she brings her lips back, reuniting them. She holds a chaste kiss for longer this time and as she goes to pull away, he carefully slips his tongue into her mouth, parting her lips moist and full.

She releases another breath, her shoulders lowering, and gasps into his mouth. A pain in her middle, she shifts uncomfortably willing it to go away.

In her movement, he takes the opportunity to reach up, sliding his hands inside the shoulders of her jacket pulling the leather from her shoulders.

"Rick," she says hesitantly, pulling from his lips to brush her cheek with his.

He takes her earlobe between his teeth and suckles causing her to push into him, his hands running up her sides to hold her close to him.

"Rick," she brings her face toward his, meeting his lips hungrily again.

"What is it?" he asks with heavy breath.

"I don't want to mess this up."

He stops. Leans back, releasing her from his tight grasp. He sighs. "I know."

She reaches up to run a hand through the front of his hair. "I guess I'm a little frightened. I like what we have."

"But you want this?"

"I do."

"I won't hurt you. I don't know if I can."

She smiles at him. "I've really messed this up, haven't I?"

"I wouldn't say so," and off her confused look, "I'm currently being straddled by one fine looking Detective."

She smiles and giggles, her girlishness twisting something within him, making him hungry for more.

He grabs her roughly by the hips, lifting her, rolling her beneath him. His body is hot and heavy above her.

"What did I just say?"she questions. She reaches up to place her hands on his chest, feeling him warm beneath her fingers.

"You cannot be this incredibly sexy and not expect me to act on it." He leans down to take her lips, pulling away to take a breath. "It's simply not human."

She giggles again causing him to jump on her, hands moving beneath her shirt, slowly, prickling.

A door opens and closes behind them. Castle unaware, grabs at the hem of his t-shirt, and in raising his arms, removes it.

"Honestly Richard," the voice of Martha Rodgers comes from the adjoining room. "I don't know why I bother to go."

Castle reaches down letting his hands travel down Beckett's body slowly. He flexes his arm, smiling at her, cupping her knee.

"You'd think they'd at least want to hear my opinion," Martha continues, her voice fading in and out as she puts her coat into a closet. "They ask us to go, they say we're needed..."

"Castle," Beckett says, breaking their kiss. Her eyes shift. "It's your mom."

Castle lifts his head. "Really. You're playing the mom card." His face turns to disgust. It is a few moments before he understands.

The sound of glass bottles hitting one another and a murmuring coming from the kitchen. Martha's voice rises. "I tell them the lines don't fit the part. I tell them the lighting needs to move an inch. It might not be Broadway Richard, but at least they'd have the decency to act like it is. To strive for that in the least. This is New York City after all. This city demands it!"

"I should go." Beckett says wriggling out from beneath him. She grabs her jacket, runs her hands through her hair and bounds out of the room.

Martha meets them as Beckett reaches the door.

"Oh hello, my dear." Martha says swirling the brightly coloured liquid in her martini glass. Off Beckett's panting, Martha continues. "Did you hear me Richard? This is New York City. Am I the only one who realises this? Is it too much to ask?"

Castle sighs, reaching out to take Beckett by the hand. "You're not going anywhere."

"Really." Beckett smiles at Martha. "I should go."

"Kate, stay." Martha smiles raising her drink. "We'll make martinis and share girl stories." She looks to her son. "Richard? Where's your shirt?"

Beckett reaches out for the door handle, turning it slightly.

"No you don't," Castle says forcefully and swings her arm over the back of his neck. Leaning down, he effortlessly lifts her over his shoulder.

"Castle, put me down," Beckett demands, hitting his back with clenched fists.

Castle turns to his mother and reaches out, taking the glass from her hand. He downs the liquid in one motion. Licking his lips, he raises his eyes to his mother. "Mother. I trust you'll see to dinner. We'll be upstairs if you need us."

He begins to walk toward his stairs, stops and turns back to his mother smiling. "Better yet... don't need us."


End file.
